


love is red and so was she

by lostmemoria



Series: marrishweek [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, been wanting to do this au for this ship forever, color motif, not really - Freeform, red is heroic, slight mention of isaac lahey, trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostmemoria/pseuds/lostmemoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan Parrish gets injured during World War II and is sent to a military hospital where he then meets Lydia Martin, the nurse with the red scarf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love is red and so was she

**Author's Note:**

> This is for day five of marrishweek which was to use a trope in a fic. (I assume tropes are kind of like motifs since that's what I learned in lit class) So I used a color motif and it's quite obvious what color haha. Anyways, I really feel like the World War II au for this ship is just magnificent! And I hope you guys like the fic! :)

Everything happened so fast.  
  
Just a week ago, Parrish and the other soldiers in his rank were full of pride, feeling heroic that they were the  _lucky_  men going to go fight in the war. That’s what all the American propaganda that they were bombarded with said,  _I want YOU_ _for the U.S Army_ or if it wasn’t that, it was posters that made the Nazis look like monsters, killing innocent women and children.  
  
But the war wasn’t as heroic as everyone made it seem, and Parrish, along with the other young, innocent soldiers didn’t realize that until it was too late.  
  
When Parrish found himself on the dirty stretcher, being carried away by the nurses to one of the military hospitals, he didn’t know where he was going. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, his mind bringing him back to the explosion that had caused him his bleeding wound, making the pain escalate even more. But his mind was also aware of another thing—a voice, the soothing voice of a girl that made the pain bearable.   
  
 _"You’re going to be okay. You’re a fighter. Fight it."  
  
_ And so Parrish fought, not only for his own life, but so he could wake to hear that voice once again.  
  
  
* *  
  
  
Red.  
  
That was the first thing he saw, although blurry, Parrish recognized a red scarf tied around the neck of the nurse that was opening his shirt to inspect the wound on his side.  
  
"I fought it," Parrish said weakly.  
  
He heard the nurse laugh softly, “Oh, the fighting hasn't even started yet, soldier.”  
  
Parrish recognized the voice as the same voice that belonged to the nurse back when he was still on the stretcher. “You saved me,” he said again.   
  
"I save a hundred soldiers like you every day," she replied easily.  
  
Parrish tried to laugh, but it hurt too much to even do so. He felt his eyesight starting to get clearer and he could finally see the nurses rush by, all dressed in similar white uniforms, carrying bandages and medicine and fresh water to the other injured men like him. And when Parrish turned to look at the the nurse that was right in front of him, his breath hitched.   
  
She was beautiful.   
  
Bright red locks of hair cascaded down  her waist, falling in front of her equally rosy face at times and framing it as she cleaned the blood off him. Her glassy green eyes were wide with focus while her eyebrow arched with precision, as if his whole life depended on that upturned brow. Parrish watched her as she poked his wound with a scalpel before grabbing a tweezer and pinching a piece of debris out of him.  
  
Parrish winced, his eyes closing from gazing at the red head.  
  
"And there’s more where that came from," she said brightly as she continued to remove debris caught in the wound.  
  
"Don’t you have any anesthesia?" Parrish asked with another cringe.  
  
The red head smiled at him brightly. “You’re in the war, soldier. We don’t have much of anything nowadays.” Then she continued, “Just…Pay attention to my voice. Listen to me. Okay?”  
  
Parrish nodded as he closed his eyes and tried his best to listen to her speak and not to the medical tweezers poking around in him.  
  
"Like I was saying," she continued, "just last week, one of the doctors had to amputate a soldier’s leg  _without_  any anesthesia. It was brutal. I was there, saw the whole thing. One of the nurses with me had to walk out because she couldn’t bare to hear the man scream. I couldn’t either, but I thought it was better to stay there with him. To try and  _soothe_  him. When the poor guy woke up, he didn't even realize his leg was gone until the nurse replaced his covers. Told her that he could still feel as if its there. I've read that in a book before, how amputees can still  _feel_  their limbs intact. Ah, all done!”  
  
She dropped the last piece of debris into a metal dish and then cleaned off the bloody tweezers. Parrish opened one of his eyes, as if he was too scared to open the other one. “Is it really?” he asked to confirm.  
  
The nurse nodded. “Just have to bandage you now.”  
  
He opened both his eyes now and glanced at the red head, watching her grab a bunch of gauze from a cabinet drawer. “Lift your torso up,” she ordered him and he did as told.  
  
As she placed the bandage underneath him before bringing it back up, Parrish eyed the red scarf around her neck. She was the only one out of all the nurses wearing something like it, and it made her stand out from all the others. “That’s an interesting scarf you have there, miss,” he finally said as she finished bandaging him.  
  
She suddenly halted, the rest of the unused gauze falling from her hands. She touched the scarf around her neck in a way that made it seem as if it had great sentimental value to her, or as Parrish guessed from the nostalgic expression on her face.  
  
"Miss?"  
  
She flinched, realizing that he was talking to her and then quickly smiled. “A soldier gave it to me,” she finally answered. “Before he passed on.”   
  
Parrish caught the sadness in her voice. “What was his name, if I may ask?”  
  
"Isaac," she said. "Isaac Lahey."  
  
The name wasn't familiar to Parrish, he didn’t know any Isaacs in any of the units he worked in.  
  
"I see. Did you love him?" The question had came out of Parrish unexpectedly and he felt the tips of his ears go red as he mustered an apology, "Sorry. That’s none of my business."   
  
"It’s alright," the girl said before she cast her gaze down. "And no, I didn't. I didn't love him."  
  
Parrish kept his gaze on her. “Did he love you?”  
  
"Very much so," she said as she placed all the medical equipment back where it belonged. When she turned back to him, she managed to give him a smile but Parrish knew it wasn't genuine. "I’ll check up on you again soon. You just rest and don’t move too much, okay?"  
  
Parrish nodded and then watched her turn to leave. “Wait,” he stopped her.   
  
She glanced at him over her shoulder, “yes?”  
  
"What’s your name?"  
  
"Lydia," she said with a small smile. "Lydia Martin."  
  
  
* *  
  
  
The next few days, all he saw was red.  
  
Her red hair that he wanted to caress. Her red lips that he wanted to kiss. And her red scarf, tied around her delicate neck, that he wanted to feel within his fingertips. He imagined it felt as soft as it looked.  
  
Parrish could easily catch Lydia Martin within the crowd of white, the dash of red around her neck was so easy to catch that whenever he saw it, it made his heart race. He wanted to so badly call out to her, but he knew that she was busy taking care of other soldiers, so sometimes he would pretend that something was hurting or that his mouth was unbelievably parched and he needed water, just so she would come by his bed.  
  
One day, when he couldn't take it anymore, he asked her, “Don’t you get exhausted, always running about?”  
  
Lydia placed the glass of water by his bedside. He knew she hadn't slept for a while because her eyes looked heavy and there were dark circles underneath them. “Being exhausted is part of the job,” she said slowly. “How can I even think of resting when there are lives at stake?”   
  
He didn't have anything to say so she continued, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, “And you, don’t you get tired?”  
  
Parrish quirked an eyebrow at her. “Tired? What do you mean?”  
  
"Tired of trying to find ways to talk to me," she said teasingly.  
  
"Oh,  _that_ ,” Parrish said, feeling his cheeks burn up.   
  
"You didn't think I noticed?" Lydia pulled his shirt up to make sure his wound didn't bleed through.  
  
Parrish shook his head. “I…Just…Wanted to talk to you.”  
  
"Then you should have just said so," Lydia said, her fingers stroking the fabric of her scarf as she twirled it within her fingertips. "I have a break in an hour. I’ll come back then."  
  
At the sound of this, Parrish smiled widely. “Promise?”  
  
Lydia laughed as his childish question, and Parrish loved the way she laughed. “Promise,” she said.  
  
"So it’s a date?"  
  
"So confident, are we?" She asked flirtatiously.  
  
Parrish shrugged. “What do I have to lose? I could die tomorrow, a soldier never knows.”  
  
Lydia frowned instantly. “Say that again, and it won’t be a date.”  
  
"Sorry," he apologized. "But you, of all people, should know how true that statement is."  
  
She tugged at the loose end of her scarf while still frowning. “I wish it wasn't true.”  
  
Then before Parrish could say anything else, a nurse called for Lydia and she was gone before he could even say  _see you_.  
  
  
* *  
  
  
Lydia Martin never broke her promises, or so she told Parrish.  
  
And so far, she had lived up to her promises. Lydia visited Parrish every day on her break, and the two would talk about anything and everything, that sometimes they didn't even realize when the time flew by. Parrish learned that before the war, Lydia had been studying medicine. She wanted to be a doctor, a children’s doctor most specifically because she loved kids. When the war came around, she volunteered to serve as a nurse on the front-lines because she believed that there was no better opportunity for her to show her skills and experience. Parrish also learned that Lydia had an older sister who was married and lived in London. Her mother was a biology teacher and her father, she didn't know much about him since he had left her when she was still young for another woman.  
  
Lydia talked more than Parrish, mostly because Parrish didn’t have much to say about his life. He never had any intention to go into higher education, which was the reason why his father made him join the army since he didn't want to have a “useless boy” sitting around the house. His mother loved him like any mother, but when in front of his father, she couldn't do anything but agree with him.  
  
But besides talking about their families, they talked of other things too. But mostly, they talked about the future. Lydia talked about how she wanted to have her wedding on a beach—but her mother would never approve, of course, but she could always dream. When Parrish asked what kind of guy she was looking for, Lydia smiled and arched both eyebrows at him.  
  
"Why? Are you proposing?" She asked jokingly.  
  
"Sure, only if I had a ring," he said, and although she took his words as a joke, Parrish was serious about every word he said.  
  
There were also times, when Lydia was extra tired, that she would lay her head down on Parrish’s pillow, and the two would whisper to each other as if they were lovers. Sometimes, she would end up falling asleep mid-sentence of what she was saying, and Parrish thought it was the cutest thing. He wouldn't wake her up right away and instead, he would softly stroke her red locks, letting her sleep because she needed it and also because he wanted her to stay with her, even if it meant just a little bit longer.  
  
  
* *  
  
  
They knew each other for two weeks.  
  
Two weeks before Parrish was finally discharged. Two weeks before Parrish realized he had to leave.   
  
Two weeks of talking.   
  
Two weeks of fingers touching on accident too many times.   
  
Two weeks of lovely whispers.   
  
Two weeks of almost kisses.  
  
Two weeks of  _we could almost be something._  
  
Two weeks of falling slowly, gradually, and then all at once, in love.  
  
Two weeks of red lips. Red hair. Red Scarf. Red. Red. Red.  
  
  
* *  
  
Parrish sat up on the hospital bed he had gotten so used to in the past two weeks, even though it hurt his back like hell and the covers were blood-stained. He didn't mind it though, all the red. The infirmary where he was kept is quite empty now, with only a few beds occupied. The rest of the soldiers, he had watched them either be discharged and thrown back into battle or die slowly, painfully.  
  
He wasn't sure if he was one of the lucky ones or not.  
  
"Jordan?"  
  
Lydia didn't call Parrish by his first name often, but when she did, she did it rarely. And this was one of those rare times.  
  
Parrish looked up and watched the red head walk over to him, her hands nervously tugging at the red scarf. “Lydia,” he said softly.  
  
She stood before him, her eyes full of a devastating sadness as she wiped away a few tears before they fell.  
  
He couldn't stand to see her cry. “Lydia—”  
  
She stopped him, “Don’t. Just listen to me first.”  
  
Parrish nodded. Then, with his own shock, he watched Lydia untie the scarf around her neck. He tried to stop her but she didn't let him and wrapped the soft red fabric around his own neck. “I..love you,” she finally said, her mouth quivering as she tried to hold back tears. “So much. And I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again after this but I want you to have the scarf. A soldier gave it to me in love, and now I’m giving it to you with my love.”  
  
Parrish felt the scarf within his finger tips, it was still warm from when it was wrapped around Lydia’s neck. He didn't know what to say, because anything he said wouldn't make things better, because either way he had to go. So he said the first thing on his mind, “l’ve been wanting to say this you for the longest time, but I was afraid. Soldiers aren't supposed to be afraid.”   
  
"Before you’re a soldier, you’re human," Lydia said as she intertwined her fingers with his. "A human with feelings, emotions, and who wants love just like anyone else."  
  
"You’re right," Parrish said as he licked his lips, trying to find the words to say. "Because, I’m hopelessly in love with you, Lydia Martin. But…I assume you already knew that."  
  
Lydia pressed her lips together and smiled, relief showing on her face as she nodded and let the tears stream down her cheeks.  
  
"Don’t cry," he whispered to her as he cradled her face within his hands and wiped her tears away with his fingers. "I’ll come back for you. I promise."  
  
Lydia tried her best to laugh, but it came out choked and she could hardly manage to speak, “Y-You better. I’m not going to wait around forever, you know?”  
  
Parrish couldn't help but smile before he pulled her face close to his, so that their noses were touching and their lips were dangerously close. “I know,” he whispered, closing the distance between them.  
  
Their lips touched softly, gently at first, before crashing into a passionate frenzy, as they realized that time would not stop for them, no matter how much they wanted it to. She sighed softly against his lips as her fingers got lost in his unkempt hair while his stubble scratched gently against her soft, soft skin. He continued to cradle her face gently in his hands all the while his fingers caressed her face. The two kissed with need, with a fiery heat, but most importantly they kissed because they wanted to forget the war, they wanted to forget everything they lost, and everything they forgot behind, and just get lost in each other.  
  
Because in between the ragged breaths and the bruised lips, and the tired hands, and the lonely hearts, Parrish found something bigger.   
  
He found love. Because love is red, and so was she.


End file.
